


i think i'm falling, i'm falling for you

by trishapocalypse



Category: One Direction (Band), The 1975 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, fanboy!harry is really cute and then really minxy and stuff idk, self-indulgent as fuuuuuuuh and i'm v sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 18:31:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trishapocalypse/pseuds/trishapocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Harry goes to see The 1975, loses his virginity, then meets up with Matty again two years later.</p><p>(Or: for once, that's all.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i think i'm falling, i'm falling for you

**Author's Note:**

> It wasn't supposed to be this long, but it is. Umm. I'm actually quite proud of this one? I never actually say that, because I'm never actually _proud._ But I am this time. That's gotta count for something, right? Anyway! Um, hastily beta'd, all mistakes are mine, this never happened, Matty is perfect (and it's ruining my life), and you're all lovely and beautiful and kind. 
> 
> For Kate, Tari, Sam, Allie, and Carlee. Because no one else would let me sob about Matty for hours on end like these ladies. 
> 
> Talk to me on tumblr! @trishanthemum if you want to :)

Harry was buzzing as he pushed through the crowd at the dingy little pub in Manchester, fighting to get to the front. He should’ve gotten there earlier, he really should’ve, but Gemma had driven him and didn’t _understand_ why Harry had to be there early. Though, really, Harry couldn’t really complain; after all, it had taken at least three hours of begging and crying (not actual crying, though, just tears and, really, Harry should’ve been an actor or _something_ ) his mum and Robin to please, please take him to Manchester so he could see The 1975. They were his favorite band and Harry didn’t even _care_ that he promised to make family dinner on Saturday and Sunday night for weeks, letting Robin pick what they watch on telly and family movie nights for a month, and even agreeing to do Gemma’s chores for two months just—just for that _moment._

It was worth it, it really _was._ Because Harry was right by the barricade, completely euphoric and still a little bit in shock that his favorite band was coming out onstage, less than a yard away from him, just— _finally._ It was the first time Harry had actually had an opportunity to _see_ them. They weren’t well known, not exactly, so the crowd wasn’t full but this was the first show that allowed people under the age of eighteen. And Harry was still seventeen—only for a couple more months, but _still_ —so it was A Big Deal. 

Because Harry was front row, just off center stage, the lights were dimming, and it was—it was _surreal_ that he was in a dingy little pub in Manchester, his sister at a pub across the road with some mates, killing time, and Harry was _waiting_ for his favorite band. His favorite band that Harry had followed for almost three years and, really, it was embarrassing how much he loved them, from magazine articles torn out and taped to his wall to photographs he printed off of the internet because while The 1975 were completely brilliant and _real_ and _honest,_ they weren’t ridiculously famous so it was still a little difficult for Harry to keep up with them. But it didn’t _matter_ because Harry was at their bloody show and he was so, so excited.

Harry’s stomach jumped into his throat when he hard the first chord of the introduction start, and he found himself wishing he had stalked the internet a little bit more so he could’ve found their set list but—again, it didn’t matter, because Harry loved every song they had. He stepped closer to the stage, as close as he could, the toes of his feet nudging against the waist-high stage, and he could feel the rhythm of the bass course throughout his body. He had to brace himself because, fuck, Matty Healy was actually onstage in front of him, running his fingers through his _hair_ and, fuck. 

Harry was _done_ and it was only the first song. 

And Harry was pretty positive that seeing The 1975 live was a religious experience of some sort, because they were even better than Harry would’ve thought. And he was losing himself in the crowd, being surrounded by the music (and it didn’t exactly hurt matters that Matty had taken his ratty white t-shirt halfway through the set, right before playing Sex and, wow, Harry was definitely _distracted_ ). It was Harry’s first show, first _real_ show, and he didn’t want it to end. But by the time The 1975 made their way off stage, Harry’s heart was still pounding in his chest and he was wrestling with himself as to whether or not he was going to wait around their merch table with everyone else to meet them. He wanted to, he _did,_ but—they were his _favorite_ band and he was _nervous._

He followed the crowd and found himself in line for the merch table, girls screaming and giggling around him. The nerves just seemed to get worse as the line moved forward. The crowd wasn’t crazy, but Harry was starting to feel overwhelmed. He dug his mobile out of his pocket and made his way out of his crowd, peering at the screen. He had seven missed messages from Gemma, asking when he was done, where was he and, God, could they go home yet? He made his way back past the stage, turning left where he assumed the loo was because, well, that’s where it was back at the little pub in Holmes Chapel. His mobile vibrated again and he glanced down, seeing _another_ message from Gemma telling him to call when he was leaving. He ignored it and opened up his twitter app, posting a new tweet in his post-concert euphoric haze.

_@Harry_Styles: brilliant show! @The1975 kill it! xx_

As he hit post, he head a door open suddenly, seeing someone in the corner of his eye and—Oh. _Oh._ His mobile was forgotten in his hand as Matty Healy was standing just a few yards away, a pack of fags clenched tightly in his hand.

Harry’s mouth fell open and he stopped in his tracks. “Oh, um. You—Wha—Huh?”

Matty smiled, cocking his head to the left, running his fingers through his hair. “You alright, mate?”

“Am I dreaming?” Harry asked suddenly, quietly, because, really—he just wanted to find the loo, have a moment to himself, and then Matty was in front of him? Unlikely.

Matty barked out a laugh. “Nah, mate. You alright?” he repeated.

Harry’s eyes fell from Matty’s eyes to his lips, just watching him for a moment. Because there was _no way;_ there was no way he was currently in a corridor, alone, with Matty Healy, _talking_ to him and—no. There’s no way that was actually Harry’s life. 

Matty grinned, more than a little flattered that this _boy_ was so flustered in front of him. Matty wasn’t arrogant or cocky by any means, he truly wasn’t, but as his band had gained a little bit more success around England, he had gotten a little bit used to girls coming around and staring, being flustered and flirty, but this—this _boy_ was throwing him for a loop. And it wasn’t because he was some boy, not really, because Matty had messed about with George when they were high and even snogged Hann on one memorable occasion, but—he liked it. He liked the way this boy, with his curly hair and bright green eyes and a _dimple_ and…he just liked it. Matty leaned against the doorframe, messing with his pack of fags. “What did ya think, mate? Any good?”

“Brilliant!” Harry breathed out with a big grin without hesitation. He saw the corner of Matty’s lips twitch and he cleared his throat, schooling his expression and shrugging. “Well, you know, yeah, it was—it was alright,” he amended, shoving his mobile into his pocket, and reminding himself to not be _too_ eager, not to embarrass himself. 

Matty laughed, running his hands through his hair again, more than a little endeared by the boy in front of him trying to play it cool. 

Harry flushed, tucking his chin against his chest. “It was the best,” he said quietly. 

“Surely not the _best_?” Matty asked as he stopped laughing, staring the young boy down. 

Harry nodded eagerly. “Yeah, you’re great.”

Matty watched him for a moment. “What’s your name?”

“Harry,” he breathed out with a grin, eyes falling back on Matty’s lips. 

Matty nodded, biting at his lower lip. He didn’t miss the way Harry’s eyes widened, just a little bit, at the action. The boy was a little too sincere, something Matty wasn’t really used to, and he found himself wondering what the look Harry was giving him meant. He was positive the boy was interested, especially since he couldn’t stop staring at Matty’s mouth; Matty was positive he wasn’t imagining it, couldn’t help but wonder if the kid actually wanted a go. He nodded towards the door over his shoulder where the little staff lounge was, where Matty and the lads had stashed all of their stuff before the show. “Come tell me why it’s the best, yeah?” he suggested.

Harry swallowed and nodded, his heart still pounding in his chest, and he followed Matty into the room. His palms were sweating and he rubbed them across the thighs of his tight jeans. He passed Matty walking into the room; flinching a little as the light turned on and Matty shut the door. Harry sucked in a deep breath and just went for it, turning around and pressing his lips against Matty’s in an awkward and messy kiss. He felt Matty kiss him back, he _did,_ but he pulled back quickly, cheeks flushing.

Matty laughed softly at Harry’s eagerness.

Harry’s mind was reeling and, really? He cursed himself mentally because his life wasn’t a movie or _fanfiction_ or something, and he just had humiliated himself in front of _Matty Healy_ by kissing him and _ohmygod ohmygod I’m such an idiot!_ was the only thing running through his mind. “I’m sorry, I—“

“It’s alright,” Matty said, taking a step forward and covering Harry’s lips with his own. His hands cupped his jaw, fingertips pressing as he tilted Harry’s head to the side, just a little bit, and deepening the kiss. He kissed him slowly, just a gentle pressure of lips and the barest hint of tongue. 

Reaching for Matty’s waist, Harry took a step forward, leaning up on the balls of his feet to get a little bit closer. He dug his fingers into Matty’s sides, trying to ground himself more than anything, as Matty’s tongue traced his lips. Harry’s lips parted easily, tongue darting out to barely brush against Matty’s as he tried to get even closer to him.

Matty slipped his hands down to Harry’s waist, sliding over the curve of his arse. A small moan escaped Harry’s lips, and Matty found himself smiling into the kiss. The innocent routine he had seen in the corridor obviously wasn’t an act and that was quite refreshing. Matty could’ve felt bad, but Harry _did_ willingly follow him into the room, so he wasn’t going to overthink it. Harry’s hands traced the line of Matty’s back until they fisted in his hair, whimpering as Matty pulled Harry’s bum forward, one of his thighs slipping between Harry’s legs. 

Harry held on to Matty tightly, feeing his prick start to fatten up beneath his jeans at the friction. He could feel himself flushing at the little sounds leaving his lips, but he didn’t care. He could—He could _do_ this. He’d snogged people before, a few, actually, and there was Emma from down the road back in Holmes Chapel, and even though the sex had been enormously subpar and disappointing, Harry could—he could _do this._ He had to, _wanted_ to more than anything. 

He tightened his hold in Matty’s hair, had been dreaming about doing that for ages, and he tried not to moan again as Matty’s lips left his own and trailed down the side of his neck. He could feel Matty’s prick pressed against his own between the layers of denim, and he _wanted;_ he wanted to feel him, taste him, _whatever._ He wasn’t picky, he just needed more.

Matty sucked at the skin of Harry’s neck, tonguing over the bruise until he could feel Harry panting. “What do you want?” he asked quietly, nipping at Harry’s earlobe. 

Harry flushed, his breathing uneven. “I—I—I wanna suck you,” he blurted out before he could overthink it and find a reason not to. He untangled his fingers from Matty’s hair and sunk to his knees, Matty’s prick just a few inches away from his face. His hands were shaking as he unzipped Matty’s jeans, pushing them down his hips, his mouth watering slightly as he ran his knuckles over the bulge in Matty’s pants, the swollen head of his prick nearly peaking through the hem of his Calvin Klein’s. “Never done this before,” Harry admitted quietly, looking up at Matty from underneath his eyelashes.

Sucking in a deep breath, Matty tried to even out his breathing. “You don’t hafta,” he told him, reassuring, “only if you want to, mate.”

“No, I want this—want to,” Harry told him with an eager nod, “so much.” He swallowed, tongue darting out to wet his lips, and he slowly reached for the hem of Matty’s pants, tugging them down past his prick and down his thighs. It was—fuck, well it was the first prick Harry had seen, besides his own, actually, and it was…different, bigger and a little intimidating. But Harry wanted it, he _did,_ wanted to feel the weight of Matty on his tongue, wanted to know what he tasted like, and—he _wanted._ “Can you—“ he swallowed again, sending a quick look up at Matty. “Can you…tell me how to do it?”

“Have you ever gotten a blowie?” Matty asked.

Harry shook his head. “No, I—“ he stopped and flushed; the last thing he wanted was for Matty to not take him seriously or…walk away. “Wanna make it good for you,” he told him with a shrug. 

Matty hesitated before nodding, endeared by Harry’s honesty more than anything else. He should’ve asked Harry to stand, given him a quick kiss and asked him to leave, ending it before he got in too deep—that would’ve been the smart thing to do. That would’ve been for the best, asking Harry to leave, especially since he was a virgin or, well, at least a virgin to sucking prick and probably taking prick and, fuck, Matty was distracted, wondering how Harry would look spread out beneath him. “Just…do what you think would feel good, yeah?”

“Okay,” Harry said quietly, gently wrapping his hand around the base of Matty’s prick. Matty inhaled sharply and Harry looked up at him, would’ve been worried and stopped if he didn’t see the small grin on Matty’s face. He jerked him slowly, tightening his grip a little because that’s how _he_ liked it, and he leaned in to taste him, but stopped, nervous and intimidated and a little scared. 

“It’s alright, love,” Matty whispered, running his hand over the boy’s curls, more than a little endeared by his inexperience and, wow, that was new. “Just…have a lick, cover your teeth, and suck the tip—“ 

Harry leaned in before Matty could even finish what he was saying, wrapping his lips around the head of his prick and sucking a little bit. He could feel Matty tense up beneath him and that was almost enough encouragement. He ran his tongue over the slit, the precome not exactly pleasant but also not anything that Harry couldn’t handle. 

“Like that, yeah,” he breathed out, “so good.”

Harry would’ve smiled around his prick if he could’ve; instead he chose to lick at him again, jerking his hand slowly down his length and squeezing. He could hear Matty panting above him, hear him whisper _yeah, fuck, like that,_ and it was enough; Harry figured he was pretty lucky, giving his first blowjob to someone who wasn’t making fun of him, making him feel like an inexperienced kid. He bobbed his head down a little bit more, trying to take in more of Matty’s prick, and he heard Matty curse, felt his hips jerk forward. Harry gagged around him, reaching for Matt’s hips, feeling him buck and he choked around him. 

Matty reached for Harry’s shoulder, easing himself out of the young boy’s mouth. “Are you—“

“M’fine,” Harry mumbled, voice rough, and he leaned back in to lick a stripe up Matty’s cock, the tip of his tongue tracing the thick vein underneath. 

Matty clutched Harry’s shoulder, feeling the muscles in his abdomen tighten, and he was almost embarrassed by how quickly he was about to come from a sloppy blowjob from some kid at his show. He squeezed his shoulder, knowing Harry was trying to impress him more than anything.

Harry pulled off slowly, staring up at Matty with a frown. “Was it bad—“

“No, mate, that was nice,” Matty told him sincerely. 

“But—“

“But I wanna fuck you now, yeah?”

Harry nodded instantly. “Yeah,” he said, standing up and wincing at the ache in his knees. 

Matty wasn’t going to overthink this, either, not at all. He pressed a quick kiss to the underside of Harry’s jaw, nipping quickly. “Trousers off. Hands and knees on the couch,” he said, nodding towards the other side of the room. 

Without a word, Harry nodded again and walked over towards the couch. His heart was racing as he kicked off his boots, unbuttoning his trousers, and he hesitated. He sent Matty a shy look over his shoulder before throwing caution to the wind and pushing his jeans and pants down his legs, kicking them off and pushing them aside. He tore off his shirt as well, just in case; his cheeks were flushing, he could feel it, and he climbed on the couch, waiting. 

Matty locked the door to the room, just in case, and walked over towards the couch. He kneeled next to it and dug through his bag, pulling out a half-empty bottle of slick and a condom. He saw Harry’s eyes widen and he sent him a small smile, hoping it was reassuring or…something. He pushed aside how uncharacteristic that was of him because, while Matty wasn’t a slag and he definitely wasn’t used to shagging groupies, he wasn’t exactly sentimental or anything of the sort. He shed his shoes and trousers before climbing onto the couch behind Harry, smoothing his hands up the front of his thighs. “Alright?”

“Yeah,” Harry said with another nod. 

“Haven’t done this either?” Matty asked.

“Been with a girl before,” he admitted quietly.

Matty smiled, running his hands up Harry’s back until they were between his shoulder blades, and he pushed him down gently. “S’more comfortable this way,” he assured him, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “Good?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, still flushing. He could feel the head of Matty’s prick rub against him and he shivered, feeling more exposed than ever before. He was still nervous, but feeling Matty’s hands rubbing small circles on the outside of his thighs was actually helping to calm him down.

“S’a bit different than sex with a girl,” Matty told him, releasing Harry’s thighs to grab the condom, rolling it on quickly before coating his fingers with the slick. He rubbed his fingertips against Harry’s hole before sliding one in slowly, feeling his body constrict around him.

Harry gasped at the feeling, a little odd and full but not entirely uncomfortable. He tightened his hands into fists, resting his head on the armrest of the couch. “Just a bit,” he agreed as Matty pumped into him. “Didn’t feel like this before,” he breathed out.

“Before?” Matty asked quietly, slowly easing a second finger in with his first, taking his time. 

“Better. Tried this myself—before. Didn’t—didn’t feel like _this,_ ” he told him, groaning when Matty’s fingertips brushed again something inside of him and that— _that_ was definitely better. “Fuck.”

Matty grinned as Harry’s hips rocked back against his hand, just a little bit. He gripped Harry’s arse with his hand, pressing in the tip of a third finger, nudging against Harry’s prostate until the younger boy was whimpering. 

“Matty—“ he panted out. 

“Good?”

Harry nodded, pushing his hips back against him, no longer feeling as shy or embarrassed as he had before. When Matty’s fingers slipped out of him, Harry had to resist the urge to pout, but it took less than a minute until he felt Matty’s hands at the back of his thighs again. “Yeah, m’ready.”

Matty gripped his prick in his hands, guiding himself towards Harry’s hole, pressing in. He rubbed Harry’s lower back as he slid in slowly, Harry tight and hot all around him, and he tried to ignore the nerves setting into his stomach at the thought of this being Harry’s first time, his actual _first_ time, and told himself to ignore the implications of it. Matty grabbed Harry’s hips, holding him steady as he slid the rest of the way in, until his balls were nestled against the curve of Harry’s bum, and he paused. 

Harry’s breathing was heavy, his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands as he felt his heart thumping in his chest. He felt full, blissfully so, and he didn’t imagine anything could’ve ever felt so _good._ He lifted his head from the armrest, peering over his shoulder to see Matty, and fuck—he was _gorgeous._ Matty’s lips were swollen and full, mouth parted in a near-silent gasp, strands of his hair falling into his face before he reached up to push it back. 

Matty rocked his hips forward in slow circles, allowing Harry time to get used to the feeling. It took all of his self-control to hold back, let Harry adjust and decide the pace, because, fuck, he was _tight_ and it was…great. He waited until Harry pushed back against him before anything else, rocking forward in shallow thrusts. Harry’s head fell back against the armrest as he moaned, clenching as Matty pumped into him. “Y’alright?” Matty asked between thrusts.

“Yeah,” Harry whimpered out, almost not recognizing his own voice, not recognizing the desperate edge to his words. “Matty—Please—“

Matty nodded, breathing out a quiet _yeah_ before sliding out nearly all the way and thrusting back in, the head of his cock nudging against Harry’s prostate and causing the younger boy’s back to bow, a loud moan slipping past his lips. Matty dug his fingers into Harry’s hips, thrusting a little bit quicker; he wanted to hear those sounds leave Harry’s lips again. 

Harry was keening, pushing back against Matty and meeting him thrust for thrust. And if he thought nothing was better than Matty’s fingers inside of him, he was _wrong_ because being stretched around Matty’s prick was definitely, infinitely better in every way. He was already close and wasn’t even embarrassed, he just wanted _more._ “Matty, I—“

“Close, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he whimpered.

Matty thrust in deeper, draping himself over Harry’s back and reaching around his hips, wrapping his long fingers around Harry’s prick. Harry moaned shamelessly, balancing himself on the couch and reaching behind himself to grab at Matty, at whatever he could touch. He gripped Matty’s bum, pulling him as close as he could, one of his legs slipping off the couch from the force of Matty’s thrusts. Harry gasped at the change of angle, Matty’s prick hitting his prostate with each thrust; he braced his foot on the floor as Matty squeezed his prick, jerking him off quickly. “Gonna come for me, love?”

Harry whimpered as he nodded, Matty’s thumb brushing over the head of his prick, smearing the precome down his length. “Close,” he whispered, curls falling into his eyes as he rested his head on the armrest of the couch again. And it only took a couple more thrusts before he came, spilling over Matty’s hand, and he would’ve collapsed against the cough if Matty didn’t wrap an arm around his waist, holding him up. 

Matty fucked into him faster, grunting as he came with Harry’s name falling from his lips, before folding himself over Harry’s back and struggling to catch his breath. Once his breathing evened out, he pulled out of Harry slowly, carefully, sitting back on the couch and peeling off the condom, tying it off and tossing it towards the rubbish bin. 

Harry was quiet, pushing his curls from his face, and he was jerked back to reality when he heard his mobile ringing in his pocket and, of course, timing—whatever. He dragged his jeans toward him, pulling out his mobile and shooting off a quick text to Gemma, saying he would be outside in just a moment. Silently he pulled back on his clothes, zipping up his jeans before turning to look at Matty.

Matty smiled and pulled on his own jeans, ignoring his pants, and pulling out a fag, placing it between his lips and lighting up. 

Harry flushed, ducking his head and scratching at the back of his neck. “That was, um—“ he cut himself off with a shake of his head, not wanting to sound ridiculous or lame and embarrass himself even further.

“Yeah, y’alright?” he asked, taking a drag and blowing the smoke out slightly.

“Yeah,” Harry said quickly, nodding, and he was. It wasn’t—It was a little uncomfortable, a little bit of an ache, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. And, wow, really? Was that his life? He couldn’t—He couldn’t _believe_ he had just lost his virginity to Matty fucking Healy and, wow, that thought just caused him to giggle a little bit.

Matty grinned. “Yeah?”

“I, um… Just a little surreal, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly.

Harry flushed, feeling more like a kid than ever before, and he did a quick _sweep, sweep, swipe_ with his curls, pushing them out of his eyes. “Um… Thank you?”

Matty laughed softly, taking another drag of his fag, blowing the smoke out of the corner of his lips before reaching for Harry’s hand, pulling him in. He kissed him slowly, barely sliding their tongues together, before he pulled back, pecking his cheek. 

“I gotta go,” Harry whispered. “My sister’s waiting.”

“Yeah,” Matty nodded. “Be good, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course,” Harry said with a shrug, a stupid attempt at being casual because he didn’t know how else to act. How was one supposed to act after losing their virginity backstage in a dingy pub with a musician they looked up to? Harry could probably Google it later, if he really wanted to. He leaned in quickly, barely kissing Matty again before stepping over to the door, unlocking it and stepping out. He told himself not to look back, that he didn’t _need_ to, even if he wanted to. He didn’t feel different, not really, but he couldn’t help but feel that people were looking at him differently. He ducked into the loo quickly, splashing some cold water onto his face, before eying his reflection. He definitely didn’t _look_ different, just a little flushed with the hint of a bruise peeking out from under the collar of his shirt but—that was all minor, really. He laughed to himself as he left the loo and met Gemma outside, climbing into the car and settling in for the drive back home. 

It had pretty much been the perfect night. 

 

 

**two years later…**

Matty couldn’t believe that he was at Glasto, tens of thousands and probably more people crowded around. And while his band wasn’t playing on the Pyramid Stage and had a lunchtime set, he didn’t even _care,_ because it was Glasto and it was massive. Matty and the lads were free for the day, really, since it was Friday and they didn’t play until Saturday. They had an interview later that evening, but he had time to sneak back to the bus for a smoke. 

When he reached the bus, he stopped dead in his tracks. The lot had been empty, everyone running around the festival and getting into all sorts of trouble, but there was someone leaning against the side of his bus, long legs crossed in front of him. And there was something oddly familiar about him, but Matty was almost positive he had never seen him before. He pulled his SnapBack off his head running his fingers through his hair, before putting it on backward, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. He walked closer towards the bus, the lad turning and smiling and—he knew those dimples.

“Harry?” he asked quietly, just in case he was wrong, but he _wasn’t_ because there was no way he could forget that dimple and—wow, time had been _good_ to him.

Harry grinned, pushing his sunglasses over his forehead and into his curls, cheeks dimpling. “You remembered,” he mused aloud, laughing softly. “That’s—That’s crazy. I didn’t think you would.”

Matty paused, looking at him up and down. And, yeah, time had been _brilliant_ to him; he’d gotten taller, just a few inches, but now he was on the same level as Matty, green eyes bright. He had a smattering of tattoos across his left arm and wrist, ink peeking out from the stretched collar of his plain white shirt. His jeans were still as tight as ever, leather patches sewn across the knee; Matty was almost positive he was wearing the same boots—not that he remembered those little details, not at all. He looked older, like he had shed some of the baby fat but still maintained his baby face, and he looked…good. Matty just shrugged, choosing not to reply, as he dug his pack of fags out of his pocket, desperately needing a smoke. 

“Congratulations,” Harry told him. “Glasto? That’s… That’s massive.”

“Thanks,” Matty said, fiddling with his pack of fags.

Harry grinned. “And you look brilliant.”

Matt’s eyebrows rose and he tilted his head to the side. “Yeah?”

He nodded.

Matty shoved his pack of fags back into his pocket, eyeing Harry again. He seemed to have lost the stuttering and nervous edge from a few years before, not that Matty was complaining about his newfound sense of confidence. It was…refreshing. “How’d you get back here?”

“Sweet talked one of the drivers,” Harry said with a shrug, pushing off of the bus and walking over towards Matty. “Took a lot of convincing and a little bit of snogging but,” he shrugged again, “it was worth it.”

“You snogged a driver to get back here?” Matty asked with a laugh.

Harry grinned. “Maybe.”

“Impressive.”

“You think?” Harry pursed his lips and stepped closer to Matty, backing him up towards the bus. 

Matty nodded and let Harry back him up, stopping when his shoulders hit the bus. “Maybe a little.”

“So I got tickets months ago, yeah? Then I found out you lads were playing, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since,” Harry admitted.

“Got a bit cheeky in the last few years, yeah?”

Harry grinned. “I prefer the term charming,” he told him, sliding his hand down Matty’s stomach and stopping just above his jeans. 

Matty half-expected to see a familiar hint of nerves in Harry’s green eyes when the younger boy glanced up at him from under his lashes, but there was none. “Charming works, too.”

Harry laughed, fingers messing with the zip of Matty’s jeans before he unbuttoned and unzipped them, slipping his hand into his pants and wrapping around his prick. Matty’s breath caught in his throat and Harry smiled, jerking him slowly, feeling Matty fatten up in his palm. “Wanna know what else I’ve not been able to stop thinking about?”

“Maybe,” Matty said, clearing his throat, and—okay. He was definitely thrown for a loop, definitely had _not_ been expecting to see Harry to have Harry’s hand down his pants or—well, anything, really. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Harry was _there_ and speaking some filthy shit. 

“Been thinkin’ about your cock,” Harry told him, sliding his thumb across the tip. 

Matty licked his lips. “Yeah? What about it?”

Harry leaned forward, barely brushing their lips together before nipping at Matty’s jaw. He let go of his prick and grabbed Matty’s jeans, pushing them down his thighs. “How much I wanna suck you off.” Harry sunk down to his knees, pulling Matty’s jeans down closer to his knees before running his hands up his thighs. “I’ve been practicing,” he teased, sending Matty a wink before wrapping his hand around the base and guiding Matty’s prick to his lips. 

Matty fisted his fingers in Harry’s curls, nearly knocking his sunglasses off his head, but he didn’t care because—fuck, he must’ve been _practicing._ Gone was the edge of nerves and timid lips and shy tongue, no, it was—it was, _fuck._ Matty’s head tilted back, resting against the bus, his heart pounding, and he didn’t even care that they were kind of in plain sight—anyone who was walking near the busses could easily see them. 

Harry shifted on his knees to get more comfortable, running his tongue along the thick vein on the underside of Matty’s prick. He could feel Matty’s thighs shaking, just a little bit, and he wanted to smile because he was the one doing this to Matty, but he wanted to focus more. He wanted to make it the best damn blowjob Matty would ever receive, didn’t want to remind him of the pathetic blowie Harry had attempted years before. He pulled back and sucked at the leaking head, tip teasing the slit before lapping up the precome and sliding further down his length. 

Matty cursed, hips jerking forward just a little bit. Harry spread his hand across his thigh, holding him steady as Matty’s prick slipped further into his mouth, his nose brushing against the thick tuft of curls at his base. Matty’s breathing was heavy and he looked down at Harry in awe because, _fuck,_ Harry was swallowing around him and it was brilliant. Harry worked his tongue across his length, humming around him, and Matty could feel his stomach tightening, wanted to hold it off but also didn’t _care_ because it was just so fucking _good._ “Harry—“

Harry glanced up at him quickly before slowly pulling off of his prick, gripping him in his hand. He lapped at the head; let it trail across his lips before sucking on it slowly. He reached down quickly to adjust himself in his jeans before taking Matty back in his mouth, swallowing around him again. He could feel Matty’s fingers twist in his curls, the action only causing him to work his tongue faster against him. 

“M’gonna—“

Harry pulled off, jerking him off quickly and licking at his lips. “Yeah?”

Matty nodded, sliding his fingers to the back of Harry’s head and trying to pull him forward, wanted to be enveloped in the wet heat of his mouth again. Harry complied, leaning forward, mouth opening easily, letting Matty guide his prick back between his lips. Harry moaned around him, dipping his tongue against his slit and around the head quickly; Matty cursed as he came, fingers tight in Harry’s curls, body shaking. 

Harry’s eyes slipped shut as he pulled away slowly, tongue lapping at the sensitive head of Matty’s prick, a small trail of spunk and spit falling form the corner of his lips. He stood quickly and pressed their lips together, tongue slipping into Matty’s mouth easily, messily; Matty’s tongue traced Harry’s lips, tasting himself there. Harry pulled away with a grin, licking his lips, running his thumb across his mouth leisurely. 

Matty’s eyes dropped to Harry’s lips, swollen and red and perfect, and he laughed a little bit. “Have been, haven’t ya?”

“Little bit,” Harry said with a grin and a small shrug. “Good?” he asked, biting at his lips.

“Yeah,” Matty said, recognizing the little hint of nerves in Harry’s bright eyes. 

Harry giggled a little bit before kissing Matty quickly and pulling away. “You play tomorrow, yeah? Lunch time?”

“Yeah,” Matty nodded.

“Brilliant. I’ll see you then,” Harry told him before starting to walk away.

Matty wasn’t sure what came over him, not really, when he reached out and grabbed Harry’s wrist, stopping him. “Where ya goin?”

Harry shrugged, pointing with his thumb back towards the festival. “Bands? Music? Food? Beer?”

“Or,” Matty proposed, tugging Harry closer to him, “you can show me what else you’ve been practicing, yeah?”

“What do you have in mind?” Harry asked, cheeks flushing but he was smiling. 

“How about you riding my cock?”

Harry swallowed, eyes darkening, and he nodded. “Yeah, that—that sounds good.”

Matty laughed, slipping his hand into Harry’s before leading him towards the bus. He punched the code into the door, dragging Harry into the air-conditioned space, kicking the door shut behind them. He dropped Harry’s hand and tugged off his SnapBack, tossing it onto the couch along with his sunglasses.

Harry grinned as he watched Matty drag his shirt over his head, balling it up in his palms before letting it fall to the floor. And it should've been Harry who was nervous and fidgeting, remembering how he did the last time they were in the same situation, but Harry wasn't seventeen anymore. He was older and more experienced, well-versed in his own sexuality, and more than willing to prove that to Matty if needed. But more than that, he wanted to break the tension that had been built between them between the blowjob and walking onto the bus. "I seem to remember you liking couches," Harry said with a grin, tugging his shirt over his head before reaching for the zip on his jeans.

Matty snorted, shaking his head, feeling a little bit of the nerves leave him. And, really, he shouldn't have even _been_ nervous. After all, he had fucked Harry before—been his first, even, and God only knew how many partners Harry had had since and, well. Matty wasn't sure if he was able to live up to whatever expectations Harry might've had. "Like _you_ on couches, more like," he told him with a bit of a wink, causing Harry to laugh loudly.

Harry shimmied out of his jeans and boots, standing all pigeon-tied and stark naked in front of Matty, waiting.

Matty didn't say anything, remained silent as he pulled off the rest of his clothes and searched for the bottle of slick he had hidden somewhere in the cushions of the couch—purely out of convenience, of course. His fingers wrapped around the bottle the same time he felt Harry's arms sneak around his waist, felt his full lips press against the side of his neck. He reached back, digging his fingertips into the flesh of Harry's thigh, Harry's fingers pressing against his abdomen, knuckles brushing his still sensitive cock. And Matty wasn't used to a second round so quick, needed a couple of seconds to wrap his head around everything, but Harry didn't let that happen; he wrapped his fingers around Matty's prick, tugging and pulling until he was completely hard again.

"Been thinkin' about this a lot," Harry whispered against his ear, lining his body flush up against Matty's from behind. He pressed himself against Matty, grinding a little for some sort of friction, panting into the side of his neck. "Been thinkin' about you fucking me again, wonderin' if you're still as good," he teased with a small laugh.

Matty smiled, slipping his hand from Harry's thigh to his bum, rubbing his fingers over his hole, just enough pressure to have Harry pushing back into him. He barely slipped his fingertip inside of him, a bit of a burning stretch that had Harry nipping at his earlobe, his breathing heavy. "Why don't you get on the couch and I'll show you," he whispered.

"No," Harry said, and it took all of his self-control to actually pull away. "You're the one who wanted me to ride you."

Matty turned and pressed their lips together, tongues sliding together easily, as if the rhythm they had found two years earlier had never been forgotten. Harry lined their bodies up again, rutting against him slowly, building up the friction until he was panting into Matty's mouth. Matty dropped the slick onto the couch and wrapped his hands around Harry's thighs, spreading them a little and rocking against him. He slowly lowered himself onto the couch, pulling Harry with him, their bodies slotting together. "Hop to, then," he whispered against Harry's lips, slapping at his arse playfully.

Harry grinned and reached for the slick, coating his fingers and reaching behind himself. Matty swallowed thickly as he watched Harry's face, eyes slipping shut and eyebrows furrowing as he pressed in. Matty was torn between wanting to watch Harry's face as he fingered himself, red lips parting in little _ah ah ah_ sounds as he twisted his fingers _just right,_ stretching and teasing before adding another, and wanting to turn Harry around and bend him over a bit, watching those long fingers slip and slide out of his hole, toying with his rim. Matty settled for cupping Harry's arse with his hands, holding his cheeks apart, noting the way Harry's cheeks flushed a little bit darker; he couldn't help sliding his hand down, brushing his fingertips across Harry's hand, barely pushing into him before he encircled Harry's wrist with his hand, speeding up his movements and causing Harry to whimper.

"Ready?"

Harry nodded eagerly, slipping his fingers out of himself and threading them in Matty's hair, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. Harry rose up a little higher on his knees, nudging against Matty's chest. Matty blindly reached for the lube, slicking himself up quickly before positioning himself. Harry whined as the head of Matty's cock brushed across his hole, catching against his rim, and he rocked down. The blunt head of his cock slipped in, Harry's eyes fluttering shut, as he continued to rock down slowly, stretching around Matty's prick. Harry let out a shuddering little puff of air as the back of his thighs met Matty's, grinding against him just a little bit.

Matty sucked in a deep breath, fingers gripping Harry's hips tightly, more than a little overwhelmed by the feeling. It wasn't like. It wasn't _exactly_ like the first time, no, but—fuck, it was almost better. Harry was still tight, almost impossibly so, and Matty didn't waste time thinking about _why_ because it didn't matter. He shifted his hips, rocking up into Harry and causing the younger boy to moan loudly.

Harry tightened his fingers in Matty's hair, tugging him forward and kissing him again as he rose up just a little, pushing back down and grinding his hips. His tongue slid across Matty's lips messily as he rocked their bodies together, almost forgetting that he was trying to _impress_ Matty with his sexual prowess or _whatever._ Harry's cock was hard against his abdomen, had been since he dropped to his knees in front of Matty outside of his tour bus, but he was too enveloped in the feeling of Matty inside him _again_ and just—

Matty nipped at Harry's lips as he pushed his hips up, surprising Harry and eliciting a whimper from the younger boy. Matty smiled against his lips, feeling Harry's hands slip from his hair to his shoulders, digging into the flesh as he started to ride him in earnest. Matty's breath caught in his throat as Harry moved, hips snapping down roughly; Harry was panting as he rocked down, the head of Matty's cock brushing against that little bundle of nerves that sent spasms of pleasure throughout Harry's body.

Harry gasped out Matty's name, speeding up his movements until his prostate was being nudged with each and every thrust. "Matty, I—I—" he breathed out, whimpering as he fucked himself harder on Matty's cock.

Matty nodded and wrapped his long fingers around Harry's swollen prick, jerking him off quickly. He was close himself, the little sounds Harry was making was pushing him closer to the edge. He pulled his hips back, thrusting upwards at the same time Harry slammed back down, causing the younger boy to moan loudly. Matty swiped his thumb over the leaking head of Harry's cock, pressing against the slit, and Harry came with a choked off cry, body spasming.

Harry collapsed boneless against Matty's chest, tightening around him. Matty gripped his hips, holding him in place, as he fucked up into him, chasing his own orgasm. He came with a grunt and Harry's teeth digging into the side of his neck, fingers pinching at his nipple.

Matty sucked in a deep breath as he came down, slowly pulling Harry off of his cock, body too sensitive to wait. He kept an arm wrapped around him, though; not that Harry was protesting, rather he was curling against Matty's side and trying to even out his breathing. Matty trailed his hand over Harry's back, over the knobs of his spine. "Well, then," he mumbled, wishing his jeans weren't so far away because he was absolutely _craving_ a fag.

"Better than last time?" Harry asked with a grin, still tucked against Matty's side.

Matty shrugged. "First time wasn't bad"

"But...I was better, right?" he whispered.

"Yeah," Matty told him with a smile. "That was brilliant."

Harry giggled and pressed his lips noisily against Matty's cheek before standing up. He picked up Matty's shirt, using it to wipe himself clean, before pulling his clothes back on.

"Hey—"

Harry silenced him with another kiss before walking over to the little kitchenette, scribbling something on a piece of paper. He mussed with his curls and picked up his sunglasses, walking back over to Matty. He leaned down and kissed him again, slowly, tongues brushing and Matty leaned forward off the couch, reaching for him. Harry giggled and tucked the piece of paper into Matty's palm, pulling away. "Just in case you think the third time's the charm," he told him cheekily before walking off of the bus without another word.

Matty was stunned, rubbing the back of his hand across his lips. He hesitated approximately thirty seconds before unfolding the slip of paper to see a mobile number and _Harry Styles (: xx_ scrawled underneath it. He laughed a little and shook his head, realizing that, yeah, he was probably going to make good use out of that number.


End file.
